“It’s all right.” He scooped her up. “I’ve got you now.”
“I shot—I stabbed him. I stabbed him in the throat, I think the throat, with my pocketknife. Couldn’t dig out the bolt, but I stabbed him. You gave me the knife and I stabbed him.”
“Okay.” Shocky, he thought—and no wonder. Her skin had gone pale as ice, and her pupils were the size of moons.
“Did I kill him? Is he dead?”
“I don’t know. He’s down and that’s what counts. Look, here comes Chase. Your dad and Rory, they’re coming, and Tate. Hear the sirens?”
“I was going to go out the window, but he came through the door. Sir, not Easy. I’m not making sense. I can’t think straight.”
“You can think later.” Callen stayed where he was as Chase leaped off his horse, wrapped his arms around both of them.
“She’s not hurt,” Callen told him. “It’s not her blood.”
With a nod, Chase turned his head, looked at the two men on the ground. “Did you do that?” he asked Callen.
“I did one, she did the other.” He glanced back as the sheriff’s truck sped down the rutted road. “You don’t have to talk to Tate yet. He’ll wait until you’re steadier.”
“I’m okay. Better. I can probably get my legs under me now.”
But Callen just carried her over to a chopping stump, sat with her in his lap. “We’ll just sit here for a while.”
“Good idea.”
She talked to Tate, found the step-by-step retelling helped clear the fog out of her mind. And she watched Easy being led off, in handcuffs, still insisting he hadn’t done anything wrong.
“He believes that,” she said. “Taking me—though he meant to take Chelsea—that was just his right. Killing Billy Jean and Karyn Allison, those were just accidents and not his fault. He was raised to believe it. I forgot, God, I forgot, he said something about Sir—LaFoy—having to bury his wives. I think Alice was right. There were others.”
“We’re going to look into that.”
“He was going to kill his own son. He came running out with the knife. He wouldn’t stop. I had the gun. I had the gun, so I used it.”
“Honey, you’re not going to worry about that.” Tate patted her knee. “It’s clear as clear gets you were defending yourself, and more than likely saved the life of the man who got you into this.”
“I stabbed him first—in the house. He came at me, he came at me when I wouldn’t just strip and lie down like he told me. I needed him to get close. I’d been using the knife—you gave it to me,” she said to Callen. “My twelfth birthday.”
Callen stared for a moment, then laid his brow on hers. “You kept it all this time.”
“It’s a good knife. I want it back. Can I have it back?”
“We’ll need it for evidence right now, but I’ll get it back to you.”
“It’s pretty dull now. I used it to try to dig the bolt out of the wall, but it wasn’t working, so I used it to pick the lock.”
“That’s what happened here?” Callen took her raw fingers, pressed them to his lips.
“It took forever, but I got the lock open, got out of the irons. I was figuring to get up to the window … Get out of the irons, get up to the window, break the window, get out the window. Run. Better if I could find a weapon somewhere in there, but I set that agenda.”
“Bet you did,” Callen reassured her, and just buried his face in her hair.
“Then he came in. Not Easy, LaFoy. He knocked me back, tore my shirt. Easy had slapped me a couple times, but I could talk him down. I knew I couldn’t with LaFoy. He looked sick—forgot that, too. Like he’d been sick awhile. Had a coughing fit. I jabbed him a couple times, and he fell on me. I got his gun, was getting it when Easy came in and pulled him off me. I ran—skipped the going out the window part and ran. I saw the trucks, so I headed for them. Maybe I could get away in one of them, then Easy came running after me. I thought I’d have to shoot him, and what would I tell Alice? But then LaFoy came out with the knife. Then Callen rode up—after—when I thought I’d have to shoot Easy again.”
“That’s enough for now. I’m going to come out and see you after we’re all done here. There’s your dad now.”
“I need to stand up, show him I’m okay.”
Bare seconds after Callen let her up, Sam swept her off her feet again.
It would be harder to tell Alice. She knew it just as she knew it had to be done. And had to come from her. She drove home with her father—he needed it—and kept her hand in his the whole way.
All the women stood on the porch, her family, and Jessica, Clementine, Chelsea. She saw pale faces, shadowed eyes, fresh tears. Her mother sprinted to her, clutched her, wept as they rocked each other.
“We’re going to take you inside, take you in, get you all cleaned up.”
“Not yet. Can we all—all of you—sit on the porch first?” She looked at her father. “I need a little while with them.”
“It’s hard to let you out of my sight.” But he kissed her, and signaled the others who drove up behind him to head around the back to unload the horses.
Bodine held each woman in turn, held hard. She saw the questions, the hope in Alice’s eyes, felt her heart squeeze.
Clementine’s chin wobbled, but she nearly managed to speak briskly. “I made a gallon jug of lemonade. I’m going to go get it.”
“Clem, I’d sure like a Coke, if it’s all the same.”
“I’ll get you one.”
“I’ll help you.” Tears just rolled down Chelsea’s cheeks.
Clementine put an arm around her shoulders. “I could use some help. You come on with me, sweetie pie.”
“Alice.” Needing it done, Bodine took her hand. “We’re going to sit. I have some hard things to tell you.”
“Did Sir hurt your face?”
“Yes, but that’s all he hurt.”
On a sigh, a sob, Alice lowered to sit on the porch steps. “You got away. You got away before he could hurt you more, before he could do all those things. I’m so glad, Bodine. I’m so glad. Now Bobby will put him in jail. Bobby’s the law. Bobby’s going to lock him up.”
“He’s dead, Alice.”
Alice blinked at the tears, swiped at them. “Dead?”
“You’re never going to have to see him again. He’ll never hurt another soul. But, Alice, it wasn’t Sir who took me, who locked me up.”
“That’s what Sir does.” Now she groped for Bodine’s hand, trembling.
“Callen told me you realized Easy was your Rory, the Rory Sir had taken away from you. That helped them find me, Alice. You helped them find me.”
“I didn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
“I know.”
“Rory took you. My Rory. He took you and locked you up.”
“LaFoy—Sir told him you were dead. He told him you died giving birth. He never knew he had a mother. And Sir taught him bad ways, bad things.”
Cora sat now, stroked Alice’s back.
“He tried to take two others before me, because that’s what Sir taught him. And … they died.”
“Sir’s in him— What’s his name, his real name?”